


Walk Me Down The Middle

by SoDoRoses (FairyChess)



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Swearing, kind of a lot of swearing, levels of awkwardness that are LITERALLY off the charts, oblivious gays, the logicality is established, the remile is mutual pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:15:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21748153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyChess/pseuds/SoDoRoses
Summary: In the game of “Who can be a cuter couple?” Emile and Remy are losing.Mostly because they’re not a couple. Really.Or,Everybody thinks they’re the most long-suffering best friend, and they’re allvery correct.
Relationships: Dr. Emile Picani/Sleep | Remy Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Comments: 19
Kudos: 194
Collections: Sanders Sides Secret Santa 2019, SoDoRoses Oneshots





	Walk Me Down The Middle

A harsh bang sounded on the bathroom door, and Remy startled, dropping his eyeliner tube and sending it skittering into the sink, a dotted trail of black behind it.

"If you are not in the car in the next ninety seconds, I will be leaving you here," said Logan, "We are supposed to be meeting Pat and Emile in fifteen minutes. The fairground is ten minutes away, and you _consistently_ take at least-"

"Oh, you are _so_ lucky you didn't make me smear this wing, Schuler, I swear it on my Granny's grave,"

There was a short pause.

"Both your grandmothers are alive, Remy," said Logan.

"Doesn't mean they don't have graves," Remy replied, "They're just empty as of this second,"

"What is the point of swearing on an empty grave?" said Logan incredulously.

"The point is you need to chill, and let me do my damn make-up, you impatient bastard," Remy said, snickering, "Pat's not gonna fly away if we're a few minutes late, and I'm almost done anyway,"

Logan muttered something Remy couldn't make out, a string of petulant grumbling that made Remy nearly smear his _own_ eyeliner from smiling. He'd been friends with Logan since they were children, and had seen him in all sorts of truly miserable states – but Logan never complained more than he did when he was being deprived of Patton-time.

Remy would have waited ninety-five seconds just to spite him, but he hadn't actually been paying attention to the wall clock when Logan said it.

And.

Well, Remy had his own reasons for wanting to get the lead out.

He exited the bathroom to find his best friend and roommate already standing by the door, rocking slightly on the balls of his feet and his keys jingling a little.

"All done," he said dryly, following Logan as he quickly made his way out of their side of the duplex toward his car.

"Did the sky fall?" Remy continued, "Have I single-handedly ruined your relationship with my fashionably late ways?"

"Ass," said Logan, rolling his eyes.

Remy blew him a kiss as they climbed into the car.

"You know you love me," he crooned, batting his eyelashes.

"I know you are an incorrigible nuisance who plagues my every waking hour,"

Remy pressed the back of his palm to his forehead.

"You're breakin' my heart, sugar,"

"... Then perish?"

"Oh, on point!" cheered Remy, "Gold star for you babe, stuck the landing,"

Logan shook his head, his neutral expression finally breaking.

"I still do not believe it was necessary to spend _that_ much time doing your make-up," said Logan, "But I understand your anxiety, and since we are not going to be late- well, barring some horrible traffic accident I suppose – I will concede I was being slightly unreasonable,"

Remy tilted his head.

"Anxiety?" he laughed, "Babe, what are you talkin' about? We’re going to the county fair, what do I got to be nervous about?"

Logan rolled his eyes.

"You do not have to do that,” said Logan, “First dates are anxiety-inducing events. Pretending otherwise for the sake of your ‘cool facade’ is irrational,”

Remy stared.

“Lo-lo. Sugar. Light of my life. I have no earthly clue what you’re talkin’ about right now,”

Logan frowned silently for several seconds.

“...Can you elaborate?” he said awkwardly, turning into the fairground parking, “I’m afraid I have no idea what part of the conversation is confusing you,”

“First _date_?” exclaimed Remy, “Did you _set me up_ or something? Because I’ll be honest that is a _hard pass,_ babe,”

Logan’s frown deepened.

“We are going to meet Patton and Emile,” he said slowly, following the directions of the guy directing the flow of traffic across the stretch of grass.

“And apparently this mysterious date of mine?” said Remy.

Logan came to a stop in their parking space, his eyebrows pinched as he stared at the steering wheel.

“Emile… is your date?” he said, turning his bewildered expression on Remy.

Remy would be the first person to tell you he had his ability to feel embarrassment surgically removed years ago to make room for more sass and coffee.

But they must have missed a spot, because the noise Remy made just then was nothing if not mortified horror distilled into one note.

“You set me up with _Emile?_ ”

“ _What?_ ” said Logan incredulously, “No! _You_ asked Emile to be your date to the county fair,”

“I most certainly did _not,_ ” said Remy hysterically.

“I was there!” insisted Logan, “Two weeks ago. We all agreed to go together. You turned to Emile and said, and I quote, ‘I’ll die of sugar overload if I have to spend the whole evening looking at them, do you promise to ditch them with me?’”

Remy pressed a hand to his chest, slumping in relief.

“Oh. My god,” he said, “You owe me Starbies for a week. A _month._ I almost had a heart attack, Logan,”

“What, _why?_ ”

“Because I thought you’d set me up with Emile!”

“But you _like_ Emile!”

Remy groaned, dragging his hands down the side of his face.

“Listen. Logan. Babe. Dearest roommate of mine. I know you’ve got romantic blinders on because you and Pat are like, destined soulmates and high school sweethearts and all that wonderful tooth-rotting goodness, but if you _ever_ set me up on a pity date with Emile I will actually kill you,”

Logan leaned over and punched him in the arm. Remy slapped his hand away.

“No one would pity-date you,” said Logan sharply.

“Gee, thanks,”

“I- _no_ , that- that isn’t what I meant,” said Logan, “You are a good person and very attractive. You do not _need_ or invite pity-dates. Therefore, since Emile agreed to this date, it-”

“Gonna stop you right there,” said Remy, “Logan, this isn’t a double-date. You misunderstood what I was asking him, is all,”

Logan stared at him.

“Sorry,” said Remy, “I didn’t mean to confuse you; I just meant we were- y’know, gonna end up third-wheeling together, since you and Patton usually tunnel-vision with each other inside an hour,”

Logan tapped on the steering wheel, his face a picture of concentration.

“… Alright,” he said, though he didn’t sound convinced, “I suppose I… apologize for the distress I have caused you,”

“Water under the bridge, sugar,” said Remy. He hoped Logan didn’t notice the way his hands were shaking.

As they made their way toward the fairground entrance, Logan’s look of contemplation didn’t budge.

“He would have said yes,” he said finally.

Remy didn’t respond.

“If you had asked him to be your date, Emile would have said yes,”

“I heard you, Lo,” said Remy quietly, “Just… just let it go, okay?”

Logan frowned, but after a few moments, he nodded.

“...Okay,”

Remy couldn’t help but slump in relief.

He also couldn’t help the way his whole chest sparked like a firecracker when he caught sight of the pink blur that was an enthusiastically waving Emile, but _that_ at least, nobody but him could see.

* * *

Patton was bouncing his weight from one foot to the other, and Emile had his hands wrapped around the strap of his messenger bag, watching his twin fondly. Patton would occasionally switch to twisting back and forth, sending the hem of his flannel spinning before starting the bouncing up again.

"Are you trying to take off?" said Emile fondly.

"I'm just so excited!" said Patton.

Emile snorted.

"I'm glad," he laughed, "You and Logan are too cute, how you're always so jumping to see each other,"

"Oh that too, definitely," said Patton, "And I promise I'll try really hard not to get to in the Logan-zone, in case you need me smooth over like, uh – an awkward silence or something,"

Emile gave him a quizzical look.

"Me and Remy, awkward silence?" said Emile incredulously, "I don't think Rem's _capable_ of awkward silence, if I'm being honest. Or _any_ silence, for that matter, he's always chatting away about something. You know the other day, he told me about how coffee doesn't actually give you energy, it just hides how tired you are, and that why you crash after? Of course, _I_ told him that's probably a good reason not to drink that much coffee, and he quoted a meme at me, and then I got distracted because he got whipped cream on his nose-"

It took almost a full two minutes for Emile to realize that _he'd_ gone into the Remy-zone, at which point he abruptly cut himself off with a bright red blush.

"Or stuff like that," said Patton when he realized he had Emile's attention again, amused, "You get kinda rambly, and I'm pretty sure Remy thinks it's cute but I know you get embarrassed,"

Emile made a strangled noise.

"Remy does _not_ think my lack of a brain-to-mouth filter is cute, I _promise_ ," said Emile, "I'm pretty sure he thinks I have some kind of can't-hush-ever disease,"

"But it is cute!" said Patton, "And I think it's one of the top contenders for Rem being smitten with you,"

Emile smacked him on the arm gently.

"Oh, stop it," he said, smiling and trying not to show how bad his chest ached from the words, "You and your Remile agenda,"

Patton huffed.

"Don't _you_ get sassy with me about my agenda, I was right, wasn't I?"

Emile squawked.

"You are _not_ , Pat, why are you picking on me?"

Patton gave him an incredulous look.

"Milly, why would Remy have asked you on a date if he _didn't_ like you?" he said slowly, "You don't- it's not like he's making _fun_ of you, or something, you know Remy's not like that,"

Emile made a full thirty-second monologue of horror in which he managed to use not a single English word.

"Pat," he croaked, "Did- _what_ , did you get like- like Wile E. Coyote bonked on the head with an anvil? Remy wouldn't ask me on a date if we were the last two people on the whole goshdarn planet. He's so far out of my league he’s neighbors with Marvin the Martian,”

Patton frowned.

“No, he’s not,” he said, “And I was literally standing right next to you? When he asked you to double date to the fair, with me and Logan?”

Emile just tugged at a loose thread on his pink sweater, sighing.

“I love you very much,” said Emile patiently, “But there is no way to keep you out of the Logan-zone. Remy just meant we’re gonna have to band together against the sheer cuteness of you or we’ll explode,”

Patton’s face went red.

“Oh, stop exaggerating so much,”

“I’m not!” said Emile, “If you two were gems you’d be Garnet. If you were mice you’d be Mickey and Minnie.”

“Emile!”

“Popeye and Olive Oyl, Kim and Ron-”

“ _Milly!”_

“Oh, there they are!” said Emile, cutting himself off and waving enthusiastically.

Patton seemed to forget about his embarrassment immediately, turning and mirroring Emile waving. Emile could see Logan’s face light up all the way from here, and Remy shaking his head in fond exaggeration as he had to speed up to keep up with Logan’s now half-jog.

“Hey, cutie!” said Patton, standing on his toes to give Logan a bunny kiss.

“Hello, dearest,” said Logan softly, taking his hands.

And there they went, with the sighing and the significant eye contact and the total tunnel vision. Remy and Emile exchanged long-suffering looks.

“Alright,” said Remy, “Rides first, then food, if y’all ruin my clothes I _will_ end you,”

“Liar,” said Emile, elbowing him a little.

“It’s true but you shouldn’t say it,”

Emil let out a very stupid sounding giggle.

Remy kindly didn't point it out, leaning over to tap Logan on the arm to get his attention. Logan startled, and Remy repeated the itinerary, because goodness knows Logan and Pat probably hadn’t heard him the first time.

“C’mon, let’s do the Ferris wheel first,” he said, “Get it out of your systems,”

Patton bounced a little on the balls of his feet, letting go of one of Logan’s hands to swing the other between them.

“Oh, I love the Ferris wheel! I hope we get the blue bucket, that one’s my favorite,”

The four of them started moving as a group, Logan and Patton leading, and Remy shook his head with a small smile.

“Lovebirds,” he muttered.

“I know, right?” said Emile, “It’s cute,”

“Too cute,” said Remy, “I gotta go to the dentist once a month just to compensate for all the sweet,”

“You joke, but I live with Patton and Logan bakes him cookies as presents,”

“You have my sincerest sympathy,” said Remy, sounding way more amused than sincere.

Emile was going to respond, but then Remy put his arm around his shoulders to usher him a little faster after Logan and Patton, and Emile was pretty sure if he tried to talk he’d just make some kind of mortifying noise and embarrass himself. Better to keep quiet.

And yeah, Emile knew it wasn’t a date – like Remy would _ever –_ but…

Really what would it hurt for Emile to pretend, just a little?

He leaned his head on Remy’s shoulder, smiling softly.

* * *

After several turns on various carnival rides, ending in one that was some kind of terrifying UFO-themed spinning hell-ride with no _belts_ – Remy hadn’t realized until they were already shut inside, heaven help them all – they decided to switch to games and food, at least until they all stopped vibrating from adrenaline.

"I am _positive_ that infernal contraption is illegal," said Logan, holding out a pinch of cotton candy and popping it in Patton's mouth. Remy pretended to gag at Emile and tried not to let his head spin all over again when Emile had to cough to cover his laugh.

"Are _you_ gonna call the cops on them? Because I'm not," said Remy, "I paid good money for the ticket that got me on that death machine,"

"So you admit it's a death machine!"

"Of course it's a death machine, it's a carnival ride at a county fair," said Remy, "You're _supposed_ to fear for your life a little. It’s part of the experience,"

"That's preposterous,"

"That's showbiz, babes,"

"And _that_ doesn't even make sense! What does show business have to do with-"

Logan continued, but Remy wasn't really listening. Emile was swinging his arms, and the wide, too-long sleeves of his sweater were flapping adorably.

"Oh!" exclaimed Patton, startling Remy out of his staring.

"What is it?" said Logan.

"Ring toss!" said Patton, "C'mon, watch this,"

"Watch what?" asked Remy, but Patton didn't answer. Instead, the twins made a bee-line for the ring toss booth, looking like two giant blobs of pink and blue cotton candy themselves.

By the time Logan and Remy caught up, the guy had already set up the bottles and set down the rings. He clearly wasn't impressed by either of them, Patton in a blue t-shirt with a cat on it under his flannel and Emile in a huge sweater and an Adventure Time hat. He leaned against the side of the booth looking bored.

Emile picked up the rings, squinting over at the targets and pushing his glasses up his nose. Remy made a slightly strangled noise of sheer Oh-God-He's-So-God-Damn-Cute-I-Can't-Take-It, which Logan "helpfully" covered for him with a totally unsubtle cough.

Emile tossed the first ring with a flick of his wrist – he threw the next two in rapid succession, like he wasn't even waiting for the previous one to land, and Remy gaped as all three rings landed perfectly, one on each bottle.

Patton cheered, and Emile gave the carnival worker a sunny, smug smile. He looked fairly impressed, gesturing to the sidewall with the bigger stuffed animals.

Emile inspected them, probably a little more intensely than the situation really called for. Remy got distracted by the little wrinkle between his eyebrows that came with Emile-concentrating-face, and so he didn't notice Emile actually picking the prize until he was standing in front of Remy and holding it out.

Remy blinked down at the green creature in front of him, tilting his head in confusion.

"Huh?" he said eloquently.

Emile beamed at him.

"Well, me and Patton got walking sticks and Logan got that balloon animal – you don't have anything yet!"

Remy tried to make the deep, even breaths he was taking to calm his suddenly-too-loud heartbeat _not_ painfully obvious. Plastering a casual smile on his face, he wrapped his hands around the body of the – frog, it was a frog, and took it from Emile’s grip. It wasn’t that big, for a perfect score, but it was crazy soft and had satin on the pads of its feet.

“Aw, thanks babes, you shouldn’t have,”

“You’re welcome!” said Emile with a shrug, turning away.

There was a little twinge in Remy’s chest, because of course he was making a _thing_ out of Emile just being… well, _Emile_ , sweet and caring and always making sure everything was fair.

Remy trotted up next to him – ignoring the exasperated look Logan was giving him – and bumped Emile gently with his elbow.

“So,” he started, “What’s his name?”

Emile blinked.

“Well- I mean, he’s… he’s yours, I guess whatever you name him?”

“Nope,” said Remy, “You rescued him from that lonely booth, the honor of naming him’s gotta fall to you. I’m just the lucky recipient,”

“Oh,” said Emile, and Remy wondered for a half-second if Emile looked a bit disappointed but then he was beaming again and Remy thought he must have imagined it.

“How about, ummm…,”

Emile hummed a little thinking-tune, and Remy was so overwhelmed for a moment he nearly tripped over his own feet.

“How about Michigan?” said Emile.

Remy raised a brow.

“Like… from Looney Tunes?” said Emile. He sounded a little nervous.

Remy shook his head.

“I’ve got no clue what you’re talking about, _but_ if his names gonna be Michigan we’ve got to get him a really ugly blue and yellow scarf,”

Emile snorted.

“Not like the _state_ , you know like- ‘ _Hello, my ragtime gal-_?”

“Really ugly blue and yellow top hat then,”

Emile lost it, and Remy’s chest was full of sparklers again, pink and gold and that exact shade of bright green Emile’s eyes looked in the very first carnival lights turning on as the sun went down.

“Hey, Glasses Gays!” Remy called, ignoring Logan’s exasperated comment that all four of them were wearing glasses, “We gotta find a hat for Michigan!”

Some rando booed at him down the path, and Emile snatched Remy’s hand out of the air halfway into a rude hand gesture.

“ _Remy!”_ he admonished.

“He started it,”

Emile didn’t answer, just waved nervously at rando as he pulled Remy’s hand down and-

Oh.

Okay. They were holding hands.

Remy was gonna die, probably. It was his only option, really.

Resisting the urge to scream like a whole swarm of cicadas, Remy twisted his hand in Emile’s grip and laced their fingers together, doing everything in his power to _not_ look like he was going to implode on the spot.

They caught up with Logan and Patton again, and if Logan kept _insisting_ on casting pointed looks at Remy and Emile’s joined hands he was gonna have _no_ business complaining when Remy filled his Sudoku puzzle books with glitter glue.

* * *

Emile didn't know what had _possessed_ him not to let go of Remy's hand once he'd stopped him from making rude hand gestures, but then Remy had grabbed him back like it was no big deal and Emile had been forced to pretend it _wasn't_ a big deal to him – because giving away that it _was_ a big deal would make Remy ask _why_ Emile seemed to be having a heart attack and Emile would have to explain that he was hopelessly, head-over-heels _besotted_ with Remy and Remy would probably never talk to him again.

So. Right. Holding hands. Pretend it's not a big deal.

The only real option was to pretend it wasn't Remy's hand he was holding at all, but some other friend that Emile wasn't pining for – so he didn't look directly at him if he could help it and swung their hands occasionally like his heart wasn't doing whole standing backflips in his chest every time he caught sight of Remy in the corner of his eye.

Emile was also stubbornly pretending Patton wasn't giving him exhausted looks from Remy's other side, because Patton could just mind his own gosh darn business, thank you very much.

Remy dropped his hand suddenly, turning and grinning at Emile with that megawatt smile.

"Hold Michigan real quick, babes," he said, pushing the frog into Emile's hands. Emile's stomach was doing some very interesting churning, a mix of disappointment from the loss of Remy's hand in his own and something giggly and starstruck at the nickname. His mouth settled for some kind of ineloquent affirmative noise.

Remy sauntered (who _sauntered_ in real life? How was he real?) over to the dart booth and put down a few bills. This employee was a lot more cheery than the last one, passing over three darts with a bright smile and giving Remy a quick rundown of the prize tiers.

Remy tossed the first one and missed. He threw the second and hit one of the _prizes_ on the bottom shelf, which made Logan let out a snort behind him.

"Can it, Schuler,"

"Make me, Moreno,"

"I'm literally holding a weapon,"

"Hey now," said Patton, "You'd better not be poking holes in my boyfriend, Remy,"

Remy waved him off, frowning at the balloons. He deliberated a lot longer this time, aiming carefully, and threw the dart.

It missed by a scant few inches, and Remy slumped, clearly disappointed.

"Ah, sorry man," said the booth lady, "You wanna try again?"

"Nah," said Remy, his smile a little brittle, "Think I've embarrassed myself enough, l-o-l,"

"Did you just say 'L-O-L' out _loud_ , you philistine?"

"You can't control me, mother,"

The lady held out the consolation prizes, a little bin of knick-knacks – Emile saw some rings and necklaces, a few bouncy balls and some stim toys.

Remy fished around in it, still a little downtrodden-looking, but then his face lit up all at once as he snatched something out of the bin and spun toward Emile, holding out his hand.

“Huh?” said Emile.

“Well, you won me Michigan,” said Remy, “Fair’s fair,”

Emile held out his hand, and Remy dropped the prize in his palm.

It was a plastic ring, gold and- Emile turned it over, his eyes going wide. It had a round, pink gem in the top. It looked like _Steven’s_ gem, and Emile let out a squeal of excitement before he could stop himself.

“Oh, I _love_ it!” he exclaimed.

“Yeah?” said Remy, some indecipherable emotion in his voice that Emile was too excited to parse out properly.

“Of course I do, it’s so _neat!”_ said Emile, maneuvering Michigan in his arms so he could try and put the ring on his hand.

It was just a touch too small for his ring finger, but when he put it on his pinkie it was way too loose. Emile frowned, taking it off and trying to figure out if it was adjustable.

“Try your other hand,” said Logan.

Emile blinked at him. Logan looked perfectly innocent, which is how Emile immediately knew something was up – Logan liked to pretend he was the sensible best friend out of him and Remy, but everybody knew he was just as prone to being cheeky.

“Many people have slightly different ring sizes between their right and left hands,” said Logan lightly, “Try it on the left, it may fit,”

Oh, Emile was gonna kill him. Kill him _super_ dead, Patton was gonna disown him for killing his boyfriend and Emile was just gonna have to live with the consequences of his decisions.

Because it was goofy and silly and totally not _actually_ meaningful in any way for Emile to wear a plastic carnival prize on his engagement ring finger – except _Remy_ had given him the ring and Emile wanted, wanted, _wanted_ it to be special and important and to _mean_ something because he was, in his heart of hearts, just a teensy bit pathetic.

And of course, because the universe was out to make a fool of Emile at every turn, the ring did, in fact, fit perfectly on his left hand.

“Aww,” cooed Patton, and oh he had better _not_ or he wasn’t even gonna be _around_ to disown Emile.

“You can have a spring wedding,” Patton teased, “Michigan can be the ring-bearer,”

“Excuse you,” said Remy, sounding offended and oh _gee_ Emile wanted the ground to open up and swallow him, “Michigan will be the _flower boy_ , of course,”

Remy reached out and took Emile’s hand again with a smile that made Emile’s heart stutter.

“What do you say, sugar?” said Remy, “Gonna be my county fair husband?”

Emile managed not just _scream,_ instead letting out a slightly hysterical giggle and nodding.

“Uh, sure!” he said, “County fair husband. Right,”

Remy didn’t let go, just stepped to the side and gestured with his other hand. Emile fell into step beside him, and before he could lose his nerve he gave a little squeeze to Remy’s hand.

Remy squeezed right back, and it was a really good thing he had, because Emile thought he could have just floated away right then.

* * *

Remy could feel the bump of the plastic gem against his hand every time his and Emile's laced fingers caught his attention again – which is to say, _constantly_.

He had not a _clue_ what he'd been thinking.

Well... not quite.

He'd watched Steven Universe with Emile loads of times – or, more accurately, watched Emile's face with rapt attention as his eyes lit up every time his favorite characters came on screen – and when he'd seen the ring he knew _exactly_ what he'd been thinking.

That Emile would smile. That Remy would see that same light in his eyes and know he'd put it there.

But then _Logan_ – the bastard – had made his comment about switching hands, and given Remy a smug look when Emile had done it without so much as blinking. It had fit, and then _Patton_ had gotten in on it, and Remy had lost his head completely.

Really, county fair husband? What did that even _mean_ – nothing! It was total nonsense, and Remy had wanted to combust on the spot the second it had come out of his mouth.

But.

But Emile hadn't blinked, again – had smiled at Remy indulgently and turned an absolutely _stunning_ rose-petal pink around his cheeks, agreed to Remy's stupid, nonsense joke and _squeezed Remy's hand_ as they'd walked away, fingers linked.

Heaven help him, because Remy might just die if this kept up.

Remy had Michigan again, because Emile had gotten a candy apple and hadn't wanted to get him all sticky. Remy was trying to resist the urge to do something totally batshit, like tenderly run his thumb across the ring on Emile's finger or lean over and see exactly how sweet Emile's lips were, between the sugar-syrup of his personality and the caramel in his mouth.

The fair was winding down. It wouldn't actually close until ten, but it was eight-thirty and the sun was long gone. The carnival lights were reflecting colorful halos in Emile's glasses and Remy had long since had to put his own sunglasses up on his head or risk tripping over his own feet. Normally he wouldn't be bothered, but the last thing he wanted to do was take Emile down with him.

And Remy was half-ecstatic at the excuse to take off his ever-present accessory and half lamenting the loss of it – Emile was stunning on his _bad_ days (if any day could be called a bad day for him), but like this, glowing and colorful and smiling with his hand warm in Remy's and no dark shades to dull the brightness of him, it was a wonder Remy didn't just explode on the spot every time Emile grinned at him.

Logan had seemingly given up on his little matchmaking quest about half an hour ago – he was, as Remy had known he would be eventually, devoting one-hundred percent of his attention to Patton. At this exact moment, the four of them had stopped in the shadow of one of the musical rides, and Logan had taken hold of Patton's hands – now they were dancing, though it was really more just swaying with a side of Logan occasionally picking Patton up and swinging him in a circle while they both giggled like total goofballs.

“They’re nauseating,” said Remy fondly.

“Liar,” said Emile, elbowing him, “You think it’s cute,”

“They're not mutually exclusive, sugar,”

Emile giggled and _God,_ did Remy want to kiss him. Wanted it so much, he half wondered if his hands were trembling as much as his heart was, if Emile could tell he was absolutely flipping out and was just politely not saying anything.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, voice cracking.

Emile tilted his head with a curious smile.

“Yeah?”

Remy swallowed.

“About- about the, um. County fair husband thing,”

Emile blinked, a little startled.

Remy opened and closed his mouth several times. _He’d_ brought it up. He was pretty sure he was gonna say something, and he knew the gist of it (something along the lines of “Hey, can we maybe be kissing now?”), but it was like all his ability to use human language had just up and walked off into the crowd, leaving Remy gaping stupidly in the middle of the grass.

“… Yeah?” Emile repeated. His expression was totally indecipherable.

Remy swallowed.

“Make sure you keep track of the ring,” he said, thanking that magical fish-lady on the Starbucks logo that his voice didn’t shake, “So we can- be county fair husbands. Again, next year,”

Emile smiled, and Remy couldn’t tell if it was actually happy or just tolerant of Remy’s total _nonsense_ of a sentence.

“Sure!” he said brightly, “Next year,”

“Right,”

“Right,”

Kill him. Strike him down and save him the borderline-painful embarrassment of knowing he had access to exactly zero of his brain cells when confronted with Emile’s face.

Logan and Patton returned, and Logan was watching Remy with what he probably thought was significant but subtly communicative eye contact but instead just made it look like he was staring at a bit of spinach stuck in Remy’s teeth.

When they split off – after a long and suitably nauseating goodbye between Logan and Patton and a lot of amused looks between Emile and Remy that made Remy at turns acutely aware of the fact that they were still holding hands or unable to process anything at all except the slight gap between Emile’s front teeth that was _maddeningly_ endearing – and went to their separate cars, Remy felt the loss of Emile’s fingers between his like he’d removed his gloves in a blizzard. He buried his fingers in the fluff of Michigan’s green fur to stave off the chill.

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose as soon as the doors shut.

“Please explain to me,” he started, and he sounded like he was trying to be patient and falling very short, “How _any part_ of that encounter does _not_ qualify as a double date,”

Remy groaned and did not answer.

“He won you a-”

Logan gestured wildly at Michigan.

“-A carnival prize, which you did in turn – you were holding _hands,_ I- I don’t understand what the distinction could possibly be,”

“The distinction,” said Remy flatly, “Is that Emile could- he could have anybody, have you spent ten minutes with him?”

“Yes, clearly, but I _live_ with you, and am therefore uniquely qualified to make the distinction that you are very-”

Another hapless hand wave.

“What is the- you are a… ‘bop?’”

Remy groaned again, trailing off into helpless giggling.

“Stop laughing!” said Logan.

“Only songs are bops, not people, babes,” said Remy fondly, “But I appreciate the compliment,”

“My _point,_ ” said Logan firmly, “Is that there is no logical reason you should be so certain Emile is not interested in you,”

Remy bit the inside of his cheek.

“… Listen,” he sighed, “Emile is- he-”

Logan waited. Remy scrubbed at his face.

“I don’t know,” said Remy, trying not to let the black-coffee-bitter note color his voice, “Maybe I’m just a chickenshit, Logan, I don’t know what you want me to say,”

The silence in the cab stretched.

“I’m sorry,” said Logan, “I… I shouldn’t have...”

“Hey,” said Remy, smiling over at him and punching him lightly on the arm, “No big deal. You were just trying to help, I get that,”

Logan continued to frown.

“Let’s go home, okay?” said Remy, “If we’re not back by the time Patton gives you your goodnight phone call he’ll be all worried,”

Logan turned red around the ears, but he didn’t push it again.

When they did get home, Remy considered putting Michigan on his dresser, and then for an even more brief moment putting him in his closet so Remy didn’t have to be reminded of just how badly he was pining and how much of a coward he’d been.

Michigan ended up in the bed, and Remy really, really wasn’t surprised.

* * *

Okay, so. It wasn't a _thing_. Emile was very much not making it a _thing_.

He liked the ring. It was cute, and it wasn't like Emile didn't already have a whole hoard of bootleg cartoon merch anyway. There was nothing strange or significant about him wearing the ring around.

So what if he only wore in it the house? Or that he made sure to take it off if Remy – or anybody who knew Remy and might tell him – was coming over, putting it in a keepsake box and shoving it in his bedside drawer every time? He just... didn't want it to get banged up if he wore it out. It was plastic, it wasn't like it was that sturdy.

He wasn't _hiding_ it because that would make it a _thing_ and it _wasn't a thing_.

(Wow, he was bad at this. So bad. Denial was a river in Egypt and Emile was lost in the middle of _Siberia_ for how well he was finding it.)

He _especially_ was not making a thing out of that very last conversation at the fair, when for just the barest second Emile had thought Remy was- was gonna do something totally nuts like actually ask him out.

He hadn't – of _course_ he hadn't, Emile was the one who'd taken the silly county-fair-husbands joke way too seriously and was now wearing a plastic novelty ring around his apartment and sighing all dreamy as if Remy had meant it as anything other than a goof.

... Which Emile wasn't. Not a thing.

Emile threw himself back into the pillows and groaned.

A knock came at his open door.

"Leave me alone to die,"

"Ohana, you goose," said Patton, sounding both amused and exasperated.

"How dare you respond to my depressing Lilo and Stitch quotes with sweet Lilo and Stitch quotes,"

"Milly," said Patton gently, "What are you doing?"

"Wallowing,"

"I mean with the fair ring," said Patton, "I mean, you are kind of a little bit wallowing, but there's gotta be more to it than that,"

Emile tried not to die of embarrassment on the spot.

"I didn't realize you'd noticed," he said finally.

Patton smiled sympathetically.

"Oh, honey," he said gently, "It's kinda hard to miss,"

Emile frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"You kinda sigh when you touch it," said Patton, "And you get all dreamy. It's very sweet,"

Emile whined.

"Very embarrassing, you mean,"

"Nope," said Patton with a little 'pop' to the p, "I meant sweet, thank you so very much. I know what words mean,"

"You don't think it's creepy?" said Emile plaintively.

"What? No, of course not," said Patton, "I mean, you are _definitely_ not as bad as I was when I was pining for Logan,"

"Okay, but you were also like fifteen," said Emile, "I'm a grown-up,"

"We have more DVDs of cartoons than we have dishcloths, I think being a little dramatic about the guy you've had a crush on basically our whole _lives_ is pretty reasonable,”

“I haven’t- that’s- you’re exaggerating,”

Patton sighed.

“Milly. Remy is so gone on you it’s nuts,”

“Has he said that?”

Patton huffed.

“No,” he said, “Because if he had I wouldn’t have told you, because that would be rude to Remy. It’s just really, _really_ obvious,”

“I think you have twin-blinders on,” said Emile, “I mean- he would have said something by now, right? If he did?”

Patton crossed the room very quickly, grabbing Emile by the shoulders and shaking him, giggling a little hysterically.

“You goof! You goose, you total dork, I _love_ you, but _you_ haven’t said anything! Why is it so hard to believe Remy might be nervous, too?”

“I’m not sure Remy’s ever been nervous about anything in his life. Heck, I’m not even sure he knows what the word nervous _means,_ ”

Patton groaned, squeezing Emile’s face between his hands.

“ _Oh_ , you’re gonna be the death of me. Gonna put your big brother in the ground, Milly,”

“You’re only fifteen minutes older than me,”

“And you are making me feel all fifteen of those minutes right now,”

Patton eventually gave up on his pep talk because he had to get ready for his weekly date night, though he didn’t look happy about it. He made disapproving noises every so often as he got ready and Emile moved his pity party out of his bedroom and wondered out loud what to make for dinner, dryly commenting he was probably going to eat reheated Chinese for the second day in a row.

“Do you want me to bring something home?” said Patton, fiddling with his hair in the hall mirror.

“Uh, sure,” said Emile, “Where are you going?”

“I dunno, Lo didn’t say,” said Patton, “But I can pick up anything on my way back, what do you want?”

“Well, you don’t have to do a whole thing-”

“Goof!” said Patton cheerfully.

Emile rolled his eyes.

“A sub or something is fine,”

“Goodie gumdrops!” said Patton, “I already know what you like on those, but do you feel like trying anything new?”

Emile shook his head, waving him off.

“Okie-dokie, see you tonight!” called Patton, “Make good choices!”

“I’m watching Netflix,” Emile sang back, “Not exactly life-altering,”

Patton rolled his eyes, shutting the door behind him.

Blowing out a long breath of air, Emile clicked on the TV, scrolling through the options with only half his attention.

The other half ran a thumb over the inside of the plastic ring, the gold paint already chipping from Emile wearing it too much.

He should probably go put it away. He should probably stop playing _pretend_ about one of his best friends liking him back, stop acting like it meant anything other than Remy just being sweet and thanking Emile for Michigan.

He pressed play on the remote and his hand to his heart, swallowing the sigh.

Really – what could it hurt?

* * *

Evening shift dragged, and Remy was all-too-keen to get the hell out as soon as six-thirty rolled around. His friends usually tried to avoid texting him while he was at work, because Remy didn’t have a whole lot of self-control on the best of days and had a tendency to get written up for checking his phone too often, so the fact that he had an unread text message was a little odd.

**From: Love of Logan's Life  
[hey could you do ** **me a favor** **?]**

So that was how Remy found himself outside the door of the Picani twins’ apartment, a Subway bag slung over his arm and his hand knocking the rhythm of the Steven Universe theme, because it made Emile grin every time.

Emile _was_ grinning when he opened the door, though he also looked a little confused, and then outright startled with he saw Remy in the hall.

“Hey, babes, brought you snackage,”

“I- uh, okay, come- come in?”

Remy had no idea why Emile seemed so startled as he let Remy past. Lilo and Stitch was up on the TV, and Remy moved around the corner to set the bag on the kitchen counter.

When he turned back Emile had his hands held behind his back, looking uncharacteristically… shifty.

“… What’s up?” said Remy, wary.

“I, um- I didn’t know you were coming over,” said Emile, still fidgeting.

Remy frowned.

“Oh,” he said, “Sorry, I-”

“No! It’s not- you don’t have to-”

“Patton said they got the movie times wrong, and you needed dinner-”

“- apologize, of course, I appreciate it-”

“I can go, I didn’t mean to-”

“ _No,_ definitely not, I just-”

_Plink._

Emile froze, statue-still, and then all at once he turned scarlet from his collar to his forehead.

Remy blinked, his eyes following the sound.

Emile didn’t move. Remy bent down on auto-pilot, gently picking the gold-and-pink object of the linoleum where it had skittered toward him and standing, holding it gingerly in the palm of his hand.

“I...”

He glanced between Emile and the ring.

“… Were you wearing this?” he said.

Emile cleared his throat.

“Yep,” he squeaked.

Okay. It was just- it was just a ring, right? It didn’t _mean_ anything, that Emile was wearing a plastic carnival prize that Remy had won him.

Except.

Except that it _must_ mean something, or Emile wouldn’t look like he was about to combust on the spot, right? He’d been trying to take it off behind his back where Remy couldn’t see it. You didn’t _hide_ things that weren’t- weren’t important.

Emile looked like he’d been caught robbing a bank, and Remy was just staring at him – he should probably say something, but what?

_He would have said yes._

Logan had sounded so _sure..._

“So-

“I was just-”

Emile cut off abruptly, clamping his mouth shut so tight Remy was pretty sure he’d bit his tongue. Remy took one steadying breath.

“So, uh, about this county fair husbands thing,” he croaked.

Emile winced, and Remy plowed on.

“It’s... it’s not-”

“I know,” said Emile, smiling brittlely.

“No, no, it’s just- I don’t think it’s gonna work, because-”

“I _know_ ,” Emile repeated.

“I would rather be all-the-time boyfriends!” Remy blurted.

Emile startled, jerking back a little. For several seconds, they just blinked at each other.

Remy startled giggling.

“Oh my _god,_ kill me,”

Emile let out a few hesitant snickers of his own as Remy covered his face with a groan.

“Oh my god, _all-the-time boyfriends?_ What is _wrong_ with me?”

“It was cute,” said Emile.

“No, you can’t,” said Remy, “You _can’t_ say yes when I asked you out like that, it’s so embarrassing it should be legally classified as a _war crime,_ ”

Emile let out a laugh that sounded half-hysterical, and before Remy could continue he’d crossed the room and closed his hand over Remy’s where he still held the ring.

“Too late,” said Emile, “All-the-time boyfriends sounds- sounds really, _really_ great Remy,”

“ _You’re_ great,” blurted Remy.

Emile snorted, covering his face with another adorable giggle, and Remy lost his head completely.

“You’re amazing, you’re absolutely- God, Em, I think about you all the time,”

“ _Stop,”_ squeaked Emile.

“No,” said Remy fervently, taking both Emile’s hands in his, “What do you mean _stop_ , do you have _any_ idea how much loving-Emile-Picani juice I’ve got stored in me? How many compliments I owe on your crazy perfect smile and absurdly sparkly eyes-”

“ _Remy!”_

“Last month you leaned on my shoulder and your hair was so soft I thought I was going to literally melt, that _alone_ is like three days of compliments I never said out loud,” said Remy, “No clue, babe, you’ve got _no clue,_ ”

“I _do_ , though,” laughed Emile, squeezing Remy’s hands and making his heart stutter to a near-halt in his chest, “Oh, gosh we- we’re really dumb,”

“Shut up, you’re perfect,” said Remy.

“No, _we’re really dumb,”_ said Emile, barely understandable through his laughter, “I can’t believe we’ve just been- just been talking crossways for months,”

“ _Years,”_ breathed Remy.

Emile smile got even wider, and softened around the edges, and Remy had no idea how he could have been so utterly, painfully blind for so long.

“Oh, me _too,_ ” he said, his voice shaking a little, “Oh, can- can I-”

Remy cupped Emile’s jaw and cut him off with a kiss, cradling his palm with his other hand.

They had a lot to catch up on – might as well start as soon as possible.

* * *

The movie was clearing out, but Logan was not interested in moving just yet. Both because the crowd and the idea of being bounced about like a game of human bumper cars was deeply unappealing, and because Patton had his head tucked into Logan’s shoulder.

Patton was already checking his phone, and Logan was turning his back on. Patton let out a sudden groan, slumping even further against Logan, and Logan startled.

“What is it?” he said curiously.

“Our suffering has finally come to an end,” said Patton, uncharacteristically deadpan.

Logan tried not to gape.

“You must be joking,”

“Nope,” said Patton with a little popping noise that made Logan have to stave off the instinct to kiss him.

“Over _Subway?_ ” he said incredulously.

“Apparently,” said Patton, shaking his phone, “If I’d known that was all it took we’d have been eating nothing but five-dollar foot-longs for years,”

“That promotion has been _over_ for years, dearest,”

“But I’m never going to get the jingle out of my head,”

He hummed it then, and Logan’s heart did a brief tremble in his chest. He leaned across the gap and kissed Patton softly.

They didn’t go far when they separated, Patton staying close to give Logan several bunny kisses.

The theater was nearly empty now, and they stood to make their way towards the exit.

“I’m really glad they got it together,” said Patton, and he did, in fact, sound very relieved. Logan could relate.

“I agree wholeheartedly,” he said flatly, pulling Patton a little closer as they stepped out into the slightly chilled fall air, “It was both exhausting and entirely too cute,”

“I _know_ , right? And they say, _we_ have tunnel vision,”

“Well,” said Logan fairly, leaning over to kiss Patton’s cheek, “They are not incorrect,”

Patton giggled, stepping closer and maneuvering their hands so they were palm to palm.

“Of course you give me tunnel vision,” he said softly, “You’re the prettiest thing in the whole world,”

“I will concede to being the second prettiest if you _must_ insist,” said Logan, kissing Patton on the nose, “But the distinction of first clearly belongs to you,”

Patton giggled again, and Logan let another kiss land on his nose, and then either cheek, and then wrapped his arms firmly around Patton’s waist and fairly attacked him with dozens of little pecks.

Logan had no idea if he would see Remy back at their apartment this evening, or when he would be seeing him at all – but as he and Patton separated to either side of the car, he did resolve that the first thing he said was going to be a deeply smug “I told you so.”

The second was going to be a demand for an _actual_ double date – Logan had been listening to Remy pine for years. They had _quite_ a few of them to catch up on.


End file.
